


Feels like Rain

by Northisnotup



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Date Night, M/M, Old Married Couple, grilling is an all weather activity, pushing the fiction that Sid is 5'11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 19:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14654756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northisnotup/pseuds/Northisnotup
Summary: They'd planned to have a nice date night in. Cooking together, that sort of thing. Phil was going to show Sid how to properly cut an onion, for once.Instead Sid is grilling their steaks in the pouring down rain.





	Feels like Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neveranygoodupthere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveranygoodupthere/gifts).



> Dear Recipient: your prompts were amazing, and I'm sorry I was too much of a chicken to attempt the stylist au. I hope you like what I came up with!

No amount of money on Earth, nothing currently existing on this world can convince Phil that what Sid is doing makes sense. 

Sure, he doesn’t have a multi-million dollar house with a kitchen God himself would love to cook in. But fuck, he’s got a nice fucking set up and would it kill Sid to actually use the damn stove for once? 

Apparently. Sid picked up a couple twenty oz. steaks, nice, thick, New York cuts that must have cost a pretty penny, and brought them over so they could have a nice night in. Do adult relationship type stuff like cooking together. Phil had planned to teach Sid how to properly cut a fucking onion because holy shit his skills with a knife are actually limited to just spreading peanut butter. 

Instead, Sid is grilling their expensive steaks in the pouring rain. 

Heavy, buckets of rain. Just pissing down rain. 

“I can still throw ‘em on the cast iron, babe,” Phil calls through the screen door.

His nice cast iron pan, which had already been seasoned and pre-heated when Sid walked in the front fucking door, speckled with rain. Sid had taken one look at it, wrinkled his nose and asked if he’d brought the grill out yet. 

“Come on, I make a mean steak.” Phil had laughed , joking on the outside and groaning on the inside. 

Sid smiled and shrugged lightly “Just seems like overhandling to me, I guess.” 

Because Gordon Ramsay can’t fucking cook either, right? 

As if magically summoned by annoyed thoughts pertaining to him, Sid steps back into the kitchen, cheeks flushed and hair plastered to his scalp. “Already flipped, just a couple more minutes. How’re the sides coming?” 

Sid absolutely would have cooked the sides as well if Phil’d let him. His eyes are already darting to the oven, as if worried Phil’s fucked something up. Fucking perfectionist. Sid is so lucky he’s got a nice smile and an even nicer dick. He shifts from side to side, moving constantly to keep his shivers at bay but still staying on the mat so he doesn’t drip across the kitchen. Phil bites his lip against a smile. Well, let no one say Sidney Crosby wasn’t raised right. “Oh, you mean the potatoes I had done before you got here? And the salad that was already made?” He grabs a worn soft kitchen towel and gently begins to dry Sid’s hair before he can get too bitchy. 

“Yeah, those.” Sid takes over towelling himself, scrubbing much harder than Phil and hiding his own smile behind the terry cloth. 

“Good, just wanted to make sure we were on the same page, didn’t want to assume anything, you know?” Phil says.

“Oh fuck off.” Sid laughs, the fine lines around his eyes deepening. “You wanna grab me a plate? The steaks are probably done.” He throws the towel over his shoulder before disappearing back out onto the deck, which means that towel will be useless when he next gets in and he’ll need a new one.

Wisely, kindly, Phil does not point out that their steaks are already too done for his preferences. (Just run the whole cow past the grill and carve it up) But Sid is Sid, so the steaks are rare edging toward medium-rare. Sid has, on more than one occasion, had an entire conversation about how the fat in steaks should feel when you chew. 

The rain is warm for April, but still raises goosebumps up and down Phil’s arms nearly immediately, soaking his thinning hair and full beard in seconds. Fuck. 

Well, maybe he can coax Sid into his shower after this. (Sid does seem to like his shower more than his kitchen, just based on how much time they spend in one versus the other) “Here, they ready?” Phil presses one hand to the small of Sid’s back, presenting the plate with the other. 

Sid goes to take it and scowls when Phil tugs it back a little ways. “You’re getting soaked,” he points out, like stating the obvious after the fact will actually change anything. 

Phil refrains from rolling his eyes. He can do that all he wants later when Sid picks the movie, but he’s trying to do something nice for his fucking boyfriend. “It’s pretty nice out.” He lies. 

Sid’s smile is immediately back and wide, rain running down his laugh lines. “Not as nice as home, but,” he shrugs, poking the steaks a little more before he’s satisfied they can be moved. “not like a little rain ever hurt, eh?” 

Phil Kessel is dating the most ridiculous man on Earth. He makes sure the steaks are well covered with tinfoil before he puts them on the resting rack besides the grill, grabbing Sid’s hands before they can reach for the brush. “Thanks for dinner, eh?” He says, because Sid never fails to giggle when Phil uses Canadian-isms with his bleached out Wisconsin accent. He kisses first across Sid’s stupid fucking cheekbone, not yet covered in his attempt at a playoff beard, just because it’s there before he takes a proper kiss.

There are a lot of perks to kissing someone who’s about the same height as you. 

No getting cricks in the neck, and no awkward positioning to hold them close, for starters. 

There are endless perks when you’re kissing Sidney Crosby. 

“We’re gonna end up eating naked in the kitchen, aren’t we?” 

“Oh babe, I am ditching you for that shower as soon as that steak is done.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna thank Jason Chan for holding my hand through every single word and relentlessly cheering me on. (Not to mention the beta!) You are the best, and I cannot thank you enough.


End file.
